


Paper Might Be Stronger

by Averia



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Failed-Wedding Aftermath, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 05:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Averia/pseuds/Averia
Summary: He misses Selina so much and the only person able to give him a similar sense of security is Dick.





	Paper Might Be Stronger

Dick picks up the picture, brushes over the glass. It’s just him and Bruce, smiling at each other at the beginning of it all. He has walked past it more times than he has looked at it but ever since seeing it cracked in the pocket dimension and returning so often to Gotham after the not-wedding, Dick finds solace looking at the picture.

Crime fighting has turned more complicated and their personal lives as well, in and out of costume. Dick does not understand how Bruce feels exactly but he knows what it is like to lose people he has loved not to death but to life.

Dick places the picture back onto the cupboard and turns to his former mentor.

Bruce is looking into the distance, has not moved a single muscle since he sat down in the armchair. His mouth is turned downward, the tension visible around his eyes. Dick desperately tries to think about a good distraction. Nothing comes to mind. Nothing will distract Bruce from thinking about Selina's decision.

Dick walks closer, squeezes his shoulder and steps behind him.

"I think you need a massage, Bruce."

A hollow laugh follows his words but Bruce slips out of his jacket, leaving him with a thin white shirt that barely hides his muscles. He focuses on the shoulders first, and then goes up the strong nape of his neck and Bruce bows his head forward. It takes a moment longer before he really relaxes instead of just pretending.

The grandfather clock counts the seconds, every tick echoes through the room and disappears in the quiet of the manor.

"I thought," Bruce does not speak on and Dick closes his eyes at the vulnerability in his voice.

" _Shh,"_ he hushes him, not stopping the movements of his hands, "I know."

 

* * *

 

Bruce stands in front of Dick's apartment with guilt weighing his body down. Eventually he walks up the stairs despite his feelings, hears the music Dick is playing through the thin wooden door.

His former ward opens. A toothbrush dangles out of his mouth, and his hips are cocked, boxers sliding low. Blue eyes blink up at him in wonder but he is invited with a mumble and his own gaze sticks to the young man until the bathroom door falls shut.

Bruce settles down on the couch and leans back. He should not be here. Dick has enough problems. Dick should be the one forcing Bruce to talk about his problems until the n-th denial made him storm out of the cave. They would stop talking until a new threat brought them back together.

Instead Bruce is here without any prompting and not even to tell Dick about his confrontation with Jason. No. He is here to get comfort, to get fawned over because he misses Selina so much and the only person able to give him a similar sense of security is Dick.

Not Clark. Not Diana. Not Alfred.

Dick.

 

* * *

 

Dick pulls the cowl from his head with a smile.

"All done, B."

There won't be any questions about Batman in connection with Bruce Wayne anymore.

All thanks to Dick.

He reaches out before he even knows what he is doing. He has touched Selina likes this a hundred times and he waits for the features to swim in his vision until he sees green eyes instead of blue, his near-wife’s shapely features instead of the fine masculinity.

Dick remains. Dick and his pouty lips. Dick and his big eyes.

He blames it on the cowl, the cowl that makes Dick equal to him. Or more than that. Superior.

 

* * *

 

Dick lies awake in his bed. His room is too big, the sheets too soft and the quiet of the manor is unfamiliar after years of absence. Chicago was a busy city. St. Hadrian’s had night classes. Blüdhaven is a lights show.

Dick brushes along his cheekbone to his lips, bites at his thumb. Bruce’ touch had been gentle, his gaze searching.

He closes his eyes, brushes down his throat and further over his chest and digs his nails into the mattress, teeth gritted.

He blames it on the cowl, the cowl that still weights him down. Or rather reminds him of Bruce's magnitude.

During breakfast, Dick cannot look him in the eyes.

 

* * *

 

Bruce stares at his ceiling, feels cold without a body snuggled against his even though Selina left so many weeks ago. But if he is truthful, he does not imagine her slow breathing anymore, her teasing lips kissing his neck.

Or maybe he does.

His wounds are too fresh.

But someone else straddles his hips, someone whose touch is alien and familiar at once.

His teeth grind together. His hands grip the mattress.

He made Dick uncomfortable. How could he have been so selfish?

 

* * *

 

Bruce drinks champagne at the gala, kisses Vicki Vale behind the curtains.

And there is nothing.

 

Bruce drinks whiskey at the manor, kisses Dick Grayson behind closed doors.

And a current runs through him.

He remembers the look in Dick's eyes when he found him plugged to the death machine.

He remembers hugging him, both of them bloodied before he sent him to Spyral.

He remembers knowing Dick would catch him when Raptor tried to kill him.

He remembers the weight of him in his arms after Clark and he rescued him from the pocket dimension.

And he loves.

**Author's Note:**

> This was really just inspired by NW vs Hush. The art was just so gorgeous and the interaction between Dick and Bruce so genuine. I might write a different version in a universe where the Bat&Cat are husband and wife.


End file.
